


reap the rewards

by armethaumaturgy



Series: Reqs [6]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: ClassicReaper, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Reaper (Reapertale) - Freeform, Sans (Undertale)/Reaper (Reapertale), sans (undertale) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:36:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29704167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: ‘You weren’t supposed to see me,’turned into the god all but flirting with him, since‘Now that youdoknow about me, it’s fine.’And the worst part of it? Definitely the fact that Sans had started flirting back. It wasn’t even conscious, it was just all too easy to toe the line when they were throwing around jokes. He’d appreciated having someone who liked the darker ones, too.Which had somehow ended up with them being in what could, theoretically, hypothetically, be called a relationship.
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Series: Reqs [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151672
Comments: 4
Kudos: 96





	reap the rewards

**Author's Note:**

> written for @SinLover6 on twitter♥

Sans was familiar with the multiverse theory. More than familiar, in fact. So yes, he was aware of the possibility of other universes, and the fact that in half, he existed, and in the other one, he didn’t.

But that hadn’t stopped him from being more than a little surprised to see a Grim Reaper. Or, more specifically, to see that Grim Reaper shared his face. And the fact that he was, for a lack of a better word, clingy.

Thankfully, Sans didn’t have to deal with any  _ real  _ clinging — Reaper assured him very early on that were they to touch, he’d end up like little more than a pile of dust, and Sans has had enough of that feeling to last him a lifetime, thank you very much. Or several.

Yep, so that meant no touching, which suited him just fine. But it didn’t mean that Reaper didn’t spend every free minute of his time — of which there weren’t many, surprisingly — haunting Sans’ bony ass.  _ ‘You weren’t supposed to see me,’ _ turned into the god all but flirting with him, since _ ‘Now that you  _ do  _ know about me, it’s fine.’  _

And the worst part of it? Definitely the fact that Sans had started flirting back. It wasn’t even conscious, it was just all too easy to toe the line when they were throwing around jokes. He’d appreciated having someone who liked the darker ones, too.

Which had somehow ended up with them being in what could, theoretically, hypothetically, be called a relationship. Really, it was mostly Reaper flirting and bringing him coffee whenever he came around. Which Sans didn’t really _ like, _ but didn’t dislike either.

He always let the god ramble on about it, zoning out and only registering the tone of his voice instead of the words themselves. Wait it shitty of him? Maybe. But Reaper never called him out of it, so Sans never stopped.

It also entailed other things, one of which was him sprawled on the sofa while Papyrus was out, with his hand down his pants and Reaper hovering before him, empty sockets gazing at him with such intensity that it almost burned.

Like now.

Sans had never thought he’d be into voyeurism, but what else was he supposed to do when his almost-boyfriend couldn’t touch him? They were the same person — though the more time he spent with Reaper, the less he thought so — so his hand would feel the same as Sans’ own one, anyways. At least that’s what he told himself every time he started to wonder if Reaper’s hands were cold. Heh, the cold touch of death.

He’d also never been the one to jerk off much, usually too lazy to do anything about it even if he got into the mood. But with an audience, he had an incentive, especially since the other insisted on being a participating audience.

“You always look so good,” Reaper sighed, and he sounded more content than he had any right being.

Sans would deny it all the way to the surface if asked, but the words made his magic feel hotter than it was. And maybe his hips arched into his fist. Nothing anyone could prove.

He sighed through grit teeth on the next downstroke, squeezing just enough to feel right. Reaper was watching his every movement; Sans didn’t need him to have eyelights to know he was looking down at him fisting his cock, up to his face, and then back down. He made it abundantly clear.

“Bet you’d make a cute sound if I twisted my hand around you,” Reaper said, and the low rumble of his voice made Sans do just that, wrist twisting as he fucked up into his hand, just barely. 

A groan slipped out of him; Reaper’s teeth tugged up into a smile. The ‘I told you,’ was audible even if he didn’t say it aloud.

“Wonderful,” he said instead. His cheekbones were flushed blue, a shade darker than Sans’ own ones, and he had to admit it was a good look on him. He also had a hand shoved down his robes, and Sans could hear the slick sounds.

“Reaper,” Sans breathed out, unsure himself where was going with it.

It could’ve been many things; a warning to stop, a plea for more, or maybe a warning that he was close. He let the other one choose, even if he already knew what that choice would be.

“You’re doing so well, Sans,” Reaper told him. He was also arching into his fist, if the loud, slick sounds were anything to go by. His pace was much faster than Sans’ lazy stroking. It was bringing him to the peak all the same, all too easy with Reaper’s affinity to shower him in praise he didn’t really deserve, but ate up anyway. “Fuck… Can you come for me?”

Fuck, indeed.

Sans tightened his fist, teetering on the edge of his orgasm for a couple more thrusts, and then he was spilling, Reaper’s name on his conjured tongue and ribbons of blue magic on his shirt.

“Fuck… You’re so pretty when you cum,” Reaper babbled, chasing his own end with frantic movements, his sockets fluttering shut. His words blended into an incoherent mess, and then into a guttural moan. Sans couldn’t see him coming, partially because he closed his own sockets when the black spots dancing before them threatened to overtale his vision anyway, but he did see the residual magic, as blue as Reaper’s flush, when he pulled the hand out of his robes.

It should have been gross, to watch as Reaper licked his phalanges clean, but Sans couldn’t look away. “Bet you taste better,” he said, and Sans rolled his eyelights.

“Doubt it.”

“Well, I don’t. But that was  _ killer, _ and I think I’m up for a nap.”

Sans couldn’t help a snort at the pun, despite having heard it more times than he could — or cared to — count. “Bet you don’t even sleep.”

“I’d sleep with you any day.”

Sans rolled his eyelights again, though the smile never left his face. The last thing he saw before he shortcutted to his room was Reaper’s wink, and then he promptly fell onto his bed.

The cleanup would be future Sans’ problem.

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter is @esqers


End file.
